Burnt hearts and Twisted minds
by SerpentineWizard12
Summary: Crona has a terrible life. She has always been destructive. She is the cause of the fire that burned down Death City. How can one girl with a broken soul be lead out of misery? With magic and a the help of some new found friends (maka liz, patty, and tsubaki), will she be able to take back all she has done, or will she only make it worse? R&R! A bit OOC. I am bad at summaries! :D
1. Chapter 1

_**Hey, you guys! I am back with another fanfic! PS. I have changed my username to SerpentineWizrad12!**__**Please read and reveiw!**_

The night was young. The wind was fresh. The streets were vacant. The buildings were bare. Everything was a bone-dry skeleton of what used to be a happy, sunny city. The smoke filled the entire sky with a musty, choking haze that suffocated all of the life that had not already escaped its warm, musty clutches. I could practically smell the death and torture in the area.

My feet were bare and my clothes were thin. It was supposed to be winter. Snow was supposed to have covered the ground by now. My torn and battered feet were supposed to be frost bitten and blue, not burnt and red, just as my soul was supposed to be lively and happy, not sad, melancholy, and monochromic. So why had it come to this, with a burnt and twisted town with a pitch black afternoon and a night so monstrous that it ate what happiness had once been within me, when all I had wanted was a snowy yard in which I could slide down in trash can lids like the tears rolled down my dusted face?

All because of the match. That single misplaced stick of dried pinewood that had come so close to the wax, but had instead set the city a light. My family, who I had to watch burn as I ran, shouting to me to save them, to come back, to help. But I would never forget the pain and guilt that I felt that night, as I darted into nothingness, wearing nothing but a torn up tee shirt and some ragged old jeans I had found in my dresser. That match had burned them it had destroyed everyone and everything I had known and held dear to my heart. It had given me such a sense of sadness and pain that my heart was torn apart and left in my hunched chest to bleed and die.

So now, as I walk through my former home and life, I stop to watch as a fragment of burnt paper blows past my field of vision. It flows through the wind just as I had on the day of the fire. It jumps through the air, clueless and confused, unable to know exactly where it will land. It just keeps up its pace, knowing that it will end up somewhere, even it that somewhere it right back where it all started. The place that it would have told it's self to never return to, to leave and forget about everything. To start a new, hopefully better life.

I step further into this miserable heap of twisted, tangled bars and beams, this skeleton of death and misery. I don't want to. Really, I don't! It is the last thing I want to do on earth right now! The ghosts of all of those I have killed still haunt me by the thousands. Even if it was involuntary, I know that they would hate me for all of eternity if they had somehow managed to escape. I must be the only one left alive. The only one to share the guilt with. That nagging guilt that ceases to leave my body, killing me with my every move. It has made a home inside of me, a permanent home that won't be replaced.

Tears trickle down my rough and burnt cheeks as I take a couple more steps into me foretold death spot. Why did it have to be me? Why did it have to be me to be left alone in this sorry body of sadness and depression? Did I not have enough of those things to begin with? What shred of happiness and comfort I may have possessed left my body as I walked right on top of I am sure was a bone. A bone of one of my unfortunate victims.

Tears flood my eyes and form puddles around the skeleton.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I fall to my knees (right on top of the skeleton's chest) and repeat these words ten times over, growing softer and softer each time.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" My voice reaches almost a whisper before another one springs in.

"What for?" The voice startles me and I jump about three feet into the air, landing with a menacing crack on top of the same skeleton's skull. Who ever this person was they must be really unfortunate to have been killed two times over by the same person.

I dart my eyes around, but only find fog and smoke circling around me in every direction. My focus is drawn to a white (well, white and mud stained) sneaker. It seems to have no owner. It just sits there, staring back at me with two eyes of dried mud and decay. Maybe I was just hearing things. Maybe I had finally gone crazy and was only imagining it when a girl around my same age came into full view, giving the sneaker an owner. Yes, I was certainly now just some insane murderer who had involuntarily killed thousands on innocent lives, young and old, for I was the only one in this town. Everyone was dead. I have killed them all.

The girl steps in closer. Her hair is blonde, but looks brown with all of the dirt it has captured. Her skin, very pale under the misty moonlight, had a certain glow to it that makes me think that I might have not actually gone insane. Maybe, just maybe, she actually was real. I might not have killed everyone after all.

She reaches a gloved hand towards me. The glove is white, but has the fingers cut out of it, showing me five cut up and scarred fingers, they have bits of flesh that have been burnt beyond repair. Great now I have to grab the hand of a girl who I have injured. I would rather just commit suicide and get it all over with. I would rather just go and be free, living in wherever death takes me, wrapping its caring and lovely arms around my needy body, taking me to a world in which I can finally feel at peace and at rest.

But, just like all things in my horrible life, death retreats from my calls and carries its self away, leaving me in the presence of one of my more fortunate victims to most likely just kill me herself.

I stare at her hand for a moment and watch as my tears wash away the mud that coated those tender fingers for god knows how long.

She smiles down at my trembling figure. Wow. She must be quite a friendly person to actually smile at the one who ruined her life. But than a thought strikes me. She does not know that it was me who killed her family, or that it was me who caused such a terrible fate upon her.

"Come on, don't be shy. There is nothing to worry about!" She Sais this last sentence with a cutting ease that makes me cringe both with pain for how much of a lie she is telling, and with jealousy for how natural she can make it sound.

What choices do I have in this situation? It is to not take her hand, run away, and make this kind girl's life even more shameful, or to place my hand in hers, grip tight, and make my life ten times more painful. At least for the second option I won't be alone anymore.

Two minutes pass. She still has her burnt red hand stretched out to me. I begin to panic. More tears come streaming into her hand and I begin to cry even harder, to plead with my soul to make my life normal again. To take back what I had started. There is only one way to do this.

Regretfully, I smash my hand into hers, making the shallow puddle of tears that have formed in the palm go splashing down like the rain that should have but never came on that mournful day of flames. I want her to leave. I want her to go and never return. I want to never see her face again. But what I wish most, and hope with all of my heart, is that I can find more people. More that I might not have slaughtered in that brutal fight to the death with fire and city, the one that fire won with a victorious yelp and stomp of glee. Maybe, just possibly, there are more. Maybe I am not so alone after all.

Getting to my feet is like bending two-foot thick poles together. My bleeding knees ache with stiffness and discomfort. My shaky legs can barely hold the treacherous weight of my shabby, bruised body that hold so much fear and shame from the year passed. I leave my head faced downward, so that the girl in front of me cannot see my tear stained cheeks and red eyes. These are the eyes that have seen so much. So much that they should not have seen. So much that my own mind begins to play tricks on them. They are also the eyes of which many tears have been shed. I watch the sad little droplets fall to the ground, making small puddles around my bare and bleeding feet. They mix with some of the fresher blood and roll off of my feet with great speed, as though they, too, can't stand me. I watch as they form one big opaque red puddle.

Moving my foot over the puddle, I smash down, making the puddle go everywhere. Just like my thoughts. Scattered. Not knowing what to think or what should happen next.

I slowly and regretfully turn my tear-filled gaze to the girl. She is still smiling. Her emerald eyes glare into mine like two big crystals. Pure and free of worry, filled with beauty and grace. I know that I can trust her, but how am I going to. All I have done to her is injure her and give her those red and pealing fingers.

"What is your name?" she asks. "Mine is Maka." She has a happy ring in her voice. If only She knew how hard it was for me to speak right now. How hard it is to force out those two blasted words. It never was easy and never will be easy again.

"Um… it's… Crona." My voice is near a whisper. I cannot make it go any louder than that. It feels awkward. All she has done to me is be kind and make me feel at home, when all I have done is take her home away.

"That is a lovely name! Now come on, Crona. I have some people for you to meet!" And with that, she drags me into the smoke filled streets.


	2. Chapter 2

Blood seeps out from my bare hands. The hot, red, pasty substance coats both Maka's gloved and burned fingertips and my dirty scrapped palm. She has been dragging me for over a mile now. Where could she possibly want to take me? Most likely she is just dragging me to my death. She will take me to an abandoned ally way and beat me up for taking away everything she knew.

"We are almost there! Just a few more blocks!" she is so reassuring. It almost makes me doubt that any bad can come from this day.

But, with my luck, this day will possibly go very, very wrong.

Shards of glass and old rusted scraps of metal litter the bare streets. Destruction always was the one thing I could manage to pull off. This had to be, by far, the most destructive time of my life. I had managed to burn down a city, kill so many innocent lives, and even have the guts to run away from it all like a coward. I know what is coming for me in the future. That is why I ran away. I did not want to see the faces of those I loved and cared about be burned to the ground because of my clumsy actions.

It was one of those situations where you are told to never look back. You are told to run and keep on running until you find your destined spot.

But I am one of those selfish people who looked back and saw their home go up in flames. I had watched as sparks caught other houses into monsters of fire and smoke. I was the one who cried about it all night and all morning because I was just dumb enough to turn around. The two seconds it took to turn ended up ruining my life.

So, as this mysterious girl drags me down the torn up cement, I can think of nothing but the damage I have caused her and myself. My foot hits a bump. Looking down, I can see that it is yet another bone from one of my unfortunate victims. Chills run up my spine. What if I had known that person? Who could it have been that I have just lazily placed my bare foot on top of? Just the thought of it makes more tears flow from my eyes. One large drop lands right inside the vacant eye socket of the skeleton.

"I'm so, so sorry," I whisper, though it was barely audible. I doubt that Maka heard it.

I can hear a faint noise from up a head. It sounds like… Talking? So there are more people here. Well, that's just great!

"We're here!" Maka lets go of my throbbing hand, sending the still wet blood to the cement, where it stains.

I only take a few steps closer. Through the steam and smoke, I can make out what looks like… Fire? But everything was already burned, right?

Some more voices intrude my thoughts.

"Yo, Maka! We were waiting for you," Sais one voice. This one sounds like a girl. She sounds tough, as well. Maybe she, too, ran from the sweltering flames.

Maka giggles a bit.

"Yeah, yeah! I know," she turns in my direction. "Come on, Crona. Don't be shy."

"Crona? Who's Crona?" The same voice comes again, al though she sounds a bit more confused.

I walk in a couple more steps. I can now clearly see the scene that lies before me. There are three girls sitting in a circle beside a flame-engulfed log. In the center of the flame is a hat. They must be using their own clothing as fire fuel.

Maka walks up to me, her blonde hair hitting me in the face. It is quite soft except for a few spots where dreadlocks have grown in.

"This, my friends, is Crona. I found her crying on top of a skeleton." Yeah, thanks for the details.

I see one girl, a very tall girl with straight black hair and large blue eyes, cringe at the thought of dead people. How she would have hated to be me, having actually killed everyone in the city. Well, almost everyone.

"Crona, eh? I think I know you from somewhere…" it is the tough sounding girl again. Getting a good look at her, I can see that she has straight, yet thick, blonde-orange hair. Her eyes are narrower and green, like Maka.

She stands up and walks over to me with ease, as though she had been living in the wild all of her life.

"My name is Liz, and judging by your looks, you must be Crona Gorgon, eighth grade." How did she know? Wait… I have seen her before. She is that ninth grader that walks around with her sister, Patty, who was in my grade.

Oh, god. Where is Patty? Have I killed her? Patty was everything to Liz. Man, this is worse than I though!

"Um… yeah. Th-that's me." I blush a bit. It is still hard to talk to her. Looking over her shoulder, my heart is filled with relief. There is Patty, sitting there with that happy little smile on her face and care free eyes shining right back at me.

"Oh! Hiya, Crona! Long time, no see!" She jumps up and bounces over to her sister's side. "So, why have you come here? Is it to see… _The cat?_" She really confuses me.

"The… whu..?

The black haired girl stands up and walks to my side.

"Oh, so you don't know? You must be new here." Yeah, right. "The cat is said to live on the sixth floor of the tallest skyscraper in town." She waves her hand in a circular motion above her head, indicating the tall towers that I demolished. If only these girls were not so clueless. They would hate me, probably, but it would make me feel much less guilty, and much less like a liar. Great! Now I'm just being selfish again!

She sticks out her soft, pale hand to me. I really don't want to take another hand, but at least this one does not have the scars of my unfortunate doings stamped all over it.

"My name is Tsubaki," She puts on a very kind smile. From that instant, I can tell that she is a very kind and gentle girl. Her eyes shine with maturity. A maturity that I never got. If I had had that one thing, I might not have burned down my city and killed these innocent girls' families.

"Oh… um… hi" I take her hand. My cold blood coats her hand in a sticky red splash. Her eyes go wide and her skin turns so pale that she could easily resemble a sheet of copy paper. She obviously cannot handle gross things like blood and death, as I have seen from her previous reactions.

She lays her head in her hand and backs off slowly. She must hate me, just like everyone else in this miserable world, this hell come to life.

"Heh. Don't mind her. Tsubaki is still a bit creeped out. She lost her entire family to that fire. Even the slightest mention of death freezes her up. That is why she is sitting in the alleyway, not near the camp out." Maka does not know how what she just said kills me inside. So I have tortured someone, after all. I have accidentally killed someone from the inside out, mentally and emotionally.

I watch in guilt as Liz rushes over with Patty close at her heals to try to comfort Tsubaki from what I have done to her.

"So… anyway," Sais Maka, sensing my unease. "About that cat."


End file.
